


Red V

by sal_si_puedes



Series: Red [3]
Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Honeymoon, M/M, Sappiness alert, Sappy, Sappy Ending, Smut, honeymoon fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-16
Updated: 2014-09-16
Packaged: 2018-02-17 16:12:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2315594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sal_si_puedes/pseuds/sal_si_puedes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marvey go on their honeymoon - to Italy. They decide that they want to be more than just the two of them in the future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red V

**Author's Note:**

  * For [naias](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=naias).



> I wrote this for the wonderful naias, who prompted me to write another story in the "Red!verse". You are the best, naias, you really, really are!! This is for you.
> 
> Set maybe half a year or so after [Red II](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/marveyficchallenges/works/2170401) and about five years before [Red IV"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2269065).
> 
> Thank you ever so much to Rory (roryinfintiy8) for helping me to make those guys speak Italian! Grazie tante, Rory!!
> 
> I'm [sal-si-puedes](sal-si-puedes.tumblr.com) on tumblr.

Harvey can still taste the bittersweet note of a strong espresso with two small spoons of sugar on his lips, even though he has had his _caffè_ over twenty minutes ago. He licks his lips and reaches for the last remaining tiny _amaretti_ he's been saving on the edge of the small white saucer. He carefully pops the little macaroon into his mouth and keeps it on the tip of his tongue for a couple of moments before crushing it between his teeth. He closes his eyes and leans back in his chair.

The bright Campanian sun is beating down onto the town square, even though it's already rather late in the afternoon. High-pitched yells and buoyant laughter fill the warm summer air – a couple of kids are playing soccer close by and some others are perched on the steps leading to the fountain in the middle of the _piazza_ , watching the players and cheering them on.

Harvey and Mike are sitting in the shadows in front of that little _bar_ they discovered the other day after they'd returned from their day trip to Pompeii. Mike had been so excited, recounting what they'd seen in the ruins of the ancient city again and again, comparing his findings and observations to what they'd seen in Rome during their first week in Italy.

Harvey remembers Mike's upbeat voice, the waterfall of his words and ideas, and he still can't believe that this is Mike's first trip abroad. They hadn't needed a guide, neither in Rome nor in Venice, Bologna or Florence where they'd gone before their visit to Rome. Mike, it seemed, had read every travel guide there was and he had lead Harvey through the streets and to all the sights like someone who'd lived in those parts of the world for at least half of his life. And Harvey had listened to Mike rattling off dates and facts and quotes or he had just listened to Mike's voice, the rise and fall of syllables, the sing-song of his words. Sometimes, Mike had caught him listening _but not listening_ and he had smiled at Harvey and Harvey had smiled back, inwardly shaking his head at himself and his besotted foolishness and at his loving every second of it.

Venice, Bologna, Florence, followed by two relaxing days in a beautiful Tuscan villa, and then four days in the bubbling, noisy, crazy Eternal City – they had already been a day or two into the third week of their honeymoon when they'd arrived in Atrani three days ago. Only a little less than a week still lies ahead of them now and Harvey doesn't want to think about leaving.

He slowly turns his head and opens his eyes again. Mike is reading a newspaper, frowning a little and silently moving his lips along with the words he reads. Of course he speaks Italian – he's probably learned it on the plane, for all Harvey knows. He isn't complaining, though. Mike orders the best meals, simple, fresh cuisine, and the wine is always excellent. Mike can ask for directions and charm waiters, shop assistants and bus drivers like nobody else. Even sturdy police men and old women on the market melt under his beaming smile and the vivid gestures of his hands that accompany his words.

Mike's absentmindedly sipping on a glass of ice-cooled _limoncello_ , a drink he's fallen in love with on their first evening at the Amalfi coast. And while Harvey doesn't share Mike's _full_ passion for the lemony liquor, he nevertheless steals Mike's glass once Mike has set it down and takes a small sip of the cool yellow liquid.

"Hmmm," he hums, smacking his lips. "Good."

" _Hey!_ " Mike folds the newspaper a little and slaps Harvey's hand when Harvey sets down the glass again. "That's mine. Get your own."

Harvey hums again and licks his lips, running the tip of his tongue slowly along his upper lip. "No. I want some of yours." When he tries to reach for Mike's glass again, Mike quickly picks it up and drains the remains slowly.

"God," he moans. "This is _so_ good. We're definitely taking some of that home."

Harvey grins. There's no way they're not taking at least two bottles, customs be damned. To see that look on Mike's face again Harvey would happily face fines or even jail time if it comes to that. "Sure thing, rookie," he smiles and rises. "If you manage to find some space next to the ham, the salamis, the oil, the wine and all the Prada you bought."

"What about _your_ Prada?" Mike yelps as Harvey ruffles his hair teasingly. "You bought far more Prada than I did. And _you_ wanted the ham."

"Be back in a sec," Harvey grins and slowly enters the small _bar_ , heading for the bathroom. 

Mike's eyes follow him and a smile spreads over Mike's face. He's glad that they haven't made a lot of plans for their remaining days in Italy. They want to go to Naples the day after tomorrow or the day after that and they want to hike the Path of the Gods, but otherwise there's nothing but _dolce far niente_ on their minds. Well, maybe a bit (or a lot) of _la dolce vita_ , too. Mike's smile broadens into a grin. Oh, yes. Definitely _a lot_ of that. 

"This is the best," Mike whispers to himself and watches how the kids skillfully kick the ball back and forth, dribbling and winning the ball back, running about and cheering every time one of them 'scores a goal'.

The waiter comes out and approaches their table, smiling at Mike.

"Signore?"

"Un'altro limoncello e un campari soda, per favore." Mike orders their drinks and sighs happily. From the corner of his eye he can see Harvey emerging from the _bar_ and lazily strolling around the other tables towards where Mike is sitting. They'll stay here for another half hour or so, Mike thinks, before taking a walk through the narrow, winding roads of the town and along the beach, lazily walking back to their hotel where they'll rest for a while and then change for dinner. _La dolce vita_.

Suddenly Harvey stops, and for a moment Mike thinks that he has tripped, but then he sees that the ball the kids have been playing with has gone astray and that Harvey's stopping it with his foot. Mike watches Harvey positioning himself and kicking the ball back to what seems to be the leader of the little group of kids, the captain of the team. 

The boy, maybe eight, nine years old, stops the ball and looks around at his peers, grinning. When they all nod, he kicks the ball back to Harvey who takes it, pauses for a second and makes some quick, dribbling steps towards the group of kids before kicking the ball back to the dark-haired boy, who in return looks around at his friends again and exchanges some quick words with them. When they all nod once more, he turns back to Harvey, grinning.

"Hey, signore, vuoi giocare con noi? Puoi stare nella mia squadra."

Harvey furrows his brow and turns to look at Mike. "He wants you to be on his team," Mike shouts. "To play with them."

Mike looks over to the little team captain and waves. "Lui è davvero bravo, sai? Io lo vorrei nella mia squadra."

"Come on," Mike challenges Harvey. "Be a man. Play with them."

"Prendilo, Marco," another boy shouts in the background and a girl chimes in. "Prendilo nella nostra squadra!"

Marco grins, kicks the ball towards Harvey and immediately runs after it. Once Harvey has the ball, he pretends to break into a run to the left but then he quickly turns to the right and dribbles the ball around Marco. "Okay," he grins and gestures back and forth between Marco and himself. "I'll be on your team. Tua squadra."

Mike watches them play for a while, the bunch of kids running after Harvey whenever he has the ball, trying to tackle him, trying to steal the ball away from him – everyone but Marco and his friend, Maurizio, who apparently are on Harvey's team. Harvey helps one of the boys, Nuno, up when he stumbles and falls, swiftly checking for injuries and ruffling his hair and slapping him on the back lightly when Nuno simply dusts off his scraped knees and runs along. 

After Marco has finally managed to score a goal after a daring pass from Harvey, everyone wants to high-five or fist-bump the two of them and Harvey plays along, dealing out bravos and calling the kids by names of famous Italian soccer players as well as by their own. _Marco Toni, Maurizio Gattuso, Nuno Nesta_ and _Francesca Buffon_ , the valiant goal-keeper.

When Harvey returns to their table, flushed and sweaty and out of breath and smiling, the look on Mike's face makes him stop dead in his tracks. Mike's mouth is slightly open and his eyes are wide and glistening. When Harvey asks him what's wrong, he just shakes his head and takes a sip from his glass, never taking his eyes off of Harvey.

"Good goal," he murmurs and sets his glass down again, biting his lips. "You made Marco the hero of the day."

*****

When they return to their hotel room about an hour later, tearing at each others' clothes, a bundle of trembling need and longing, Mike breathes into Harvey's ear that he wants to fuck him. They don't do that very often, but Mike is so lovely and beautiful and aroused that Harvey is more than happy to oblige. Mike is a very passionate lover, especially when he's on this side of the action, and Harvey enjoys his generosity and carefully reined-in intensity, the way he trembles with the effort to go slow and the way he lets himself lose control in the end when Harvey finally succeeds in coaxing him into giving in to the full force of his want. 

Harvey loves to come apart under Mike's demanding touches and he revels in the sensation of Mike pulsing and spilling inside of him, of his heart fluttering in his chest, threatening to break free and join with Mike's, of the warm stickiness between their bodies. Mike's panted declarations of want and love mix with the sound of his own moans and the rush of blood in his ears when they finally reach their peak and tumble over the edge, clinging to each other with hands and words and lips. 

They take their time coming down, caressing each other lightly, kissing again and again, licking drying sweat from clavicles and throats, brushing over nipples and, as their breathing evens out, resting their hands loosely on each others' softening cocks. Mike buries his face in the crook of Harvey's neck and mouths words of gratefulness and love against Harvey's skin while Harvey's other hand gently roams over Mike's arm and shoulder.

"I love you so much," Mike murmurs and Harvey nods. 

"I know, baby," he whispers back and kisses the top of Mike's head. "I love you, too. More than anything."

Mike sniffles and tries to relax under Harvey's touch. Harvey can feel that Mike is squeezing his eyes shut for a second and that his jaws clench briefly.

"Are we going to talk about it?" Harvey asks calmly, never ceasing to caress Mike's skin with gentle but firm touches. 

"No," Mike whispers and clears his throat. He stretches against Harvey's body and places his hand against Harvey's chest. His eyes are still closed but the tension in his body eases a little. "Not yet. Not now."

"Okay," Harvey nods and a moment later they doze off for a couple of minutes.

*****

In the evening, Mike gets drunk. Not _drunk_ drunk but definitely _slightly_ tipsier than would have been wise. They dine out at a small pizzeria in town and Mike orders a fresh glass of red wine whenever the one in front of him is empty. Harvey lets him, looking at him across the table with amusement as Mike digs in. He's talking about their visit to Pompeii again and he makes Harvey laugh with a crazy little story he makes up about a German tourist couple that had been standing in line in front of them at the gift shop. 

They order _caffè_ and _grappa_ once they've finished their meal and they slowly stroll through the narrow, dimly lit streets for a while after dinner. 

When they reach the _piazza_ again, Mike makes a beeline for the fountain and sits down on the stone steps. He motions for Harvey to join him and when he does, he snuggles up against Harvey's side. Harvey puts his arm around Mike's shoulders and holds him close.

"I bet Marco told his dad about you." Mike's speech is slightly slurred and he giggles. "I bet he told him you called him Marco Toni."

"Hmmm," Harvey buries his nose in Mike's hair and inhales. "You smell like pizza."

" _You_ smell like _Harvey_ ," Mike takes a deep breath and kisses Harvey on the cheek. "I bet his dad is so proud of him." He nudges Harvey's shoulder with his nose and squeezes his hand. "I bet his dad loves him so very much."

"Mike," Harvey says and lifts Mike's chin with his index finger. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," Mike sniffles surreptitiously and smiles. "I just want to think about it for a while. Just for a little while, okay?"

"Okay," Harvey says and draws Mike in even closer. "Whatever you want."

"It's just—I never _knew_ —I didn't expect to want this so much," Mike murmurs and leans into Harvey's touch. "And then, today, when I—When you—I never thought I'd want this so much."

Mike takes a deep breath before he continues. "And I _know_ what you think and that—I mean I—I _know_ —But I can't help—" He falls silent and closes his eyes. "Let's," Mike clears his throat after a while and noses at Harvey's shoulder once more. "Let's talk tomorrow evening, okay? When we're back from the hike… We can talk then, okay?"

"Of course," Harvey answers and rises. He offers his hand to Mike and smiles. "Let's go back to the hotel then, what do you think? We can sit outside for a bit and maybe have a night-cap on our balcony."

"Can we have _limoncello_?" Mike asks and his voice sounds rather small.

"Yes, we can," Harvey laughs and slings his arm around Mike's shoulder once they're both standing again. "Of course we can… Come on then, rookie. Let's go home."

*****

They hike the _Sentiero degli dei_ the next day and – after a late lunch in Positano and a lazy stroll through the old town afterwards – they take the bus back to Bomerano where they've left the car in the morning. Mike has been rather quiet all day, focusing on the hike and the magnificent view over the Mediterranean. Harvey has let him, enjoying their hike and the view and the silent intimacy they've been sharing all through the day as well as Mike's occasional smile and the look of love and trust he finds in his eyes every time they look at each other.

Once they are back at the hotel, they take a quick shower and lie down for a late afternoon nap, doors to the balcony wide open and no clothes under the light linen covers. Mike sleeps for a solid hour and when he wakes up, Harvey has already two fingers inside of him.

Judging by how loose and slippery he already is and judging by Harvey's panting breath against the nape of his heck and by the sound of Harvey's other hand moving up and down his own cock, slicking it up with lube, Harvey has been playing with him for quite some time. His own straining erection is another indicator – he must have enjoyed Harvey's ministrations tremendously for a good while in his sleep. 

Mike loves that, he loves the way his body trusts Harvey implicitly and that his body yearns for Harvey even in his sleep. The first time something like that had happened, the first time Mike had woken up with Harvey's fingers already inside of him, Harvey had withdrawn his hand immediately. He had been embarrassed or maybe even ashamed, Mike isn't sure – he'd actually blushed and hidden his face in the pillows – and he had apologized to Mike profusely, over and over again. He hadn't wanted to look at Mike for the longest time and it had taken Mike quite a lot of his fiercest negotiation skills to convince Harvey that he was okay with that – that he was _more_ than okay with that. That he'd loved it and that he wanted Harvey to do that again some day – if _Harvey_ wanted to, that was.

He pushes back against Harvey's hand and draws Harvey's fingers further inside. The vibrations of Harvey's long, low moan shake him to his core and he whispers Harvey's name into the warm air of the early summer evening.

Harvey is shaking with want and Mike can feel how he's reaching for his dick and positioning himself. He withdraws his fingers and teases Mike's entrance with the tip of his cock for some seconds but Mike knows that he won't be able to hold himself back much longer. Harvey is so wound up that it takes only a tiny shift of Mike's hips, the smallest movement backwards, to make Harvey's hips thrust forward until he's fully sheathed in Mike's tight heat.

"Mike," Harvey moans, steadying himself with a hand on Mike's hip and keeping completely still for a moment. "God, Mike…"

When Mike's muscles clench around Harvey, both men inhale sharply and Harvey reaches around to take hold of Mike's cock. He closes his hand around it and exhales slowly. "Don't move," he whispers against Mike's back, letting his tongue dart out and touch Mike's skin between his open lips. He just stays like this, the tip of his tongue against Mike's vibrating skin, and closes his eyes.

"God—" Mike breathes and clenches his hands into tight fists. "Harvey, please…"

Harvey shakes his head ever so slightly and swallows thickly. "I can't." His voice is nothing more but a strained whisper, but the air streaming from his mouth and nose sends a long, deep shiver through Mike's body. "If I move I'll come." He bites his lips and presses his forehead between Mike's shoulder blades. "If I say another word I'll come. If I take _another breath_ —"

"God, yeah, Harvey—" Mike bites back a moan and squeezes his eyes shut tightly, trying to remain as motionless as possible. "I want you to. Please—I want you to—"

Harvey shakes his head once, quickly, and holds his breath for as long as he can. When he feels desperate for air, he starts shaking his head again, slowly, his free hand gripping Mike's shoulder hard, eliciting a strangled hiss from Mike's lips. When the need for oxygen becomes overwhelming, Harvey takes several greedy gulps of air, panting against Mike's skin, his breathing hitching and turning into a series of desperate moans when his hips start thrusting of their own accord, pushing Harvey deeper and deeper into Mike with each shallow thrust. He's feeling light-headed and he doesn't know if it's from the lack of oxygen or from his building climax or from the breathtaking closeness of Mike. 

"Fuck—"

His hand starts pumping Mike's cock, slick with pre-come, and he keeps fucking into Mike, letting his body finally take over. He's only seconds away from exploding when he feels Mike give in to the building need as well.

Mike pushes back against Harvey's groin and on the counter-stroke fucks into Harvey's hand, desperate for friction and release. Desperate to draw Harvey in even deeper and deeper, desperate to get closer, just a little more, just a little, just—desperate to become one.

"Mike, I—" Harvey's words are cut short when, for a second, he feels Mike's cock twitch and harden even more in his hand before the first strand of warm, sticky liquid spills over his fingers.

Mike grows impossibly tight around him, holding him firmly in place with his body. The sensation of another strand of come spilling over his hand sends Harvey over the edge as well and he empties himself into Mike, spurting his release into that tight heat, into that pulsing embrace of Mike's body.

He only realizes that he's bitten Mike's shoulder and that his teeth have left a red mark there when he comes down from his high and when he opens his eyes again and tries to catch his breath. 

"Sorry," he whispers against Mike's reddened skin and places a tender kiss upon the mark. "It's just—I want you so much."

Mike just nods and pushes his ass back against Harvey's groin once more, causing both of them to moan under their breaths. 

They stay like this for a while before Mike shifts and Harvey slips from his body. Mike turns around to face Harvey and entwines their legs. He reaches for Harvey's face and cups Harvey's jaw lightly.

"I love you," Mike says and places a gentle kiss on Harvey's lips. "More than I can say."

*****

The evening takes them back to the same small place they took their dinner yesterday and Mike orders the same pizza as the day before while Harvey decides on a spicy pasta dish. They both hold back on the wine this time but Mike's eyes brighten and he smiles when Harvey orders them two glasses of _limoncello_ after they've finished their _caffè_. 

"So," Mike says when their drinks arrive. "About yesterday."

Harvey nods and reaches for his glass to take a small sip.

"Yesterday, when I saw—when you—It's just that I—" Mike frowns and takes a sip from his own glass as well. "I mean, I can still feel you, inside of me, but I want to be closer to you _all the time_. I want you inside of me _all the time_ and I think—sometimes I think—" 

Harvey shifts in his chair and tilts his head ever so slightly. His expression is carefully guarded yet kind and patient and, in a way, very open.

"I mean I _know_ you wouldn't—I know you don't—I _know_. And I understand, I _really_ do, but can we at least talk about it?"

"Mike," Harvey says calmly and reaches across the table for Mike's hand. He gives it a quick squeeze and holds on to it for a while. "I think I have _an idea_ what you're talking about. What you're _thinking_ about but—"

"I want to hold your son in my arms," Mike blurts out and covers his mouth with his hand the second the words are out. He averts his eyes, blushing.

"Mike," Harvey says again and tries to catch Mike's gaze. "Tell me." They lock eyes and Harvey nods. "Please. You can tell me."

Mike takes a deep breath and nods. "I didn't know that I wanted this so much. Before yesterday, I mean."

He picks up his glass once more and brings it to his lips but he sets it down again without drinking. "I want it so much it hurts, Harvey. And, yes, I am scared. I'm scared shitless, to be perfectly honest, but I still want it."

He withdraws his hand from Harvey's grasp and runs his fingers through his hair. "And I know what you think, but that's not true. You'd be a wonderful father, I just know that. Look at how you practically raised your brother after—And I know how much you love him, I can see that, Harvey. I can _feel_ it."

Mike inhales deeply and rubs his palms against his thighs. "And it would be fun, too, don't you think? Soccer and baseball and—And Pepper would have someone to play with, later, and we could—"

He closes his eyes and runs his hand over them. "Okay," he whispers and takes a couple of calming breaths. "Okay." When he opens his eyes again and locks gazes with Harvey, he thinks that there is the hint of a smile in Harvey's eyes.

"I got carried away there for a bit," he chuckles wearily. "I'm sorry. But I just wanted—Look, I could do most of—I mean, you wouldn't have to—I just wanted to play with it in my mind for a while, I think."

He takes another deep breath and a swallow from his drink. "And I know I shouldn't have because—now it just hurts so much that I can't have—And I _knew_ that that would happen and I did it anyway and—And I'm sorry for doing this to you, I know I shouldn't have but—"

"Mike," Harvey finally interrupts and gently pries the glass from Mike's hand. "Look at me."

Mike raises his head and bites his lips. "Sorry," he mouths and Harvey shakes his head ever so slightly.

"Who said you couldn't have it? Why would you believe that?"

"Well," Mike says and swallows around the lump in his throat. "Well, I thought—" He blinks quickly a couple of times and furrows his brows. "Wait—What did you just say?"

"You think too much," Harvey chuckles and reaches out to run his fingers over Mike's cheek. 

"What—What do you—"

"Most of the things you said are true," Harvey interrupts and the expression on his face grows serious. "About me, I mean. I _am_ scared I'll fuck this up. I'm scared of that more than of anything else in the world. But then I know I _won't_. I know I won't fuck it up. I know I _can't_. Because I'm not alone. Because I have you."

"I don't understand," Mike murmurs and worries his lower lip between his teeth.

"Mike, I _knew_ —When I asked you to marry me, I _knew_. I _knew_ that you'd want to have a family. I _knew_ that you'd want to be a father. I _knew_ that you _would_ be a father one day."

"What do you mean?" Mike's eyes are wide and dark and he keeps doing that thing with his lip between his teeth. Harvey reaches across the table again and runs his thumb over Mike's lips once.

"I mean I'd _never_ take that away from you. I mean _I_ want that, too. With you. A family. With you."

"A family," Mike echoes and a smile starts forming on his lips. "You mean that we—"

"Yes," Harvey smiles and takes hold of Mike's hand again. "That's what I mean. That's what I want."

"Oh god, Harvey…" Mike can't help the smile from spreading and growing. "We're going to be dads." 

"Yeah," Harvey grins and squeezes Mike's hand tightly before letting go and draining his glass. "We are."

Mike is grinning like an idiot by now – or at least that's how he feels, but he can't for the life of him help it – and he quickly drains his glass as well. "Holy shit."

Harvey chuckles and motions for the waiter. "Another one?" He asks Mike with a nod towards the glasses.

"Yeah, definitely," Mike grins and looks up at the waiter. "Altri due, per favore. E uno anche per te, se ti va."

The waiter nods and grins. "Belle notizie?"

"Fantastiche," Mike replies, beaming, and locks eyes with Harvey for a second before looking up at the waiter again. "Sto per diventare padre."

"Congratulazioni!" The waiter gives Mike a quick slap on the back and strolls off to fetch their drinks.

"God, I'm so _excited_ ," Mike whispers and covers his mouth with his hands, shaking his head. "Can we talk about it some more?"

"We can talk about it all we like and for as long as we like," Harvey answers and smiles. He knows he'll do anything to see that look on Mike's face again and again and he thinks that this is how he loves Mike most.

He doesn't know yet that there are many more looks to Mike's face, many more expressions he hasn't seen yet. He doesn’t know yet that those expressions, those looks of love and happiness will touch him so deeply that he won't be the same person anymore afterwards. That they will leave an indelible impression on him, that they will mark him as a changed man.

When Mike holds Scott in his arms for the very first time. Harvey's son. _Their_ son.

When Scott calls Harvey "Dad" the very first time, even though both of them are well aware that that might have been just a phonetic accident.

Every time he watches Harvey kissing their son good night. 

When Harvey suggests – over a glass of _limoncello_ of course, there are, after all, certain traditions that should be upheld – that they might want to think about having a second child. Mike's child.

When Willow is born. When Mike's daughter is born. When _their_ daughter is born and Mike watches him holding her in his arms for the very first time.

When Mike looks at him. Every time Mike looks at him.

Again and again.

 

~fin~


End file.
